Some Things Are Meant To Be
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: "It seems like your whole life could be best summed up as a patchwork quilt of traumas." As sleep eludes him, Sam remembers, and wishes he could forget instead. *season five, Sam angst, comforting!Dean, one-shot*
_**Author's Note:**_ _A quick one-shot with the prompt being "forget". Set in season five. Please enjoy!_ _ **Trigger warning: brief mention of suicidal thoughts. If this bothers you, do not read.**_

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" _There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."_

― _Laurell K. Hamilton_

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It seems like your whole life could be best summed up as a patchwork quilt of traumas.

Some of these traumas, you remember vividly. The exact shade of crimson that flowed through your fingers the first time you witnessed Dean getting stabbed on a hunt, how panicked you were when you had to apply pressure because you were only ten and you weren't supposed to be in this situation, but here you were, the only thing that stood between death and your big brother. You were terrified Dean was going to die, but your father had finally killed the monster and somehow Dean got patched up.

Some of them, you can't recall. Your first concussion, which was, surprisingly, caused by an errant baseball during your first day of second grade. One second, you were standing on the blacktop and then the next, you were staring upwards at your concerned teacher's face. Your head ached the rest of the day and you can faintly recall Dean lightly teasing you about it. _A baseball, Sammy? That's what gets you?_ You don't remember if you laughed or not.

And some memories, you will never be able to reach, no matter how hard you try. Your mother's smiling visage, the sound of her voice, and the exact shade of her eyes—you only have a faded picture and Dean's brief recollections. You'll never know her, not like Dean did. And for some reason, that haunts you more than you liked to admit.

But here's the thing about trauma-it distorts things, morphs them from reality to some odd grey zone between waking and sleep. Did you really let Lucifer into your body or was that all some horrible nightmare? Did a rogue hunter almost kill you because he thought you were a monster?

Did you really betray Dean and let the Devil out on the Earth?

So many events have come and gone, it's hard to keep track of it all. If you really stop to think about it all, you'd lose your mind. So many sins you've committed, so many chances to atone that you've failed to take. You wish you could forget it all, just wipe your mind and start over clean.

And you guess, that's where the real problem starts.

Because you can't forget, not everything. You can try to bury the traumas with less sleep, with more research, with dangerous hunts and when all that fails, with enough booze until you pass out, but it doesn't really change things. What you've done, what you've experienced, it's within you. Like scars on your soul, they will never leave. You get up day in and day out and you try to make a difference in the world, but sometimes, when Dean's asleep and you're sure he won't wake, you wonder why you try at all. What's the point of it all, really? Maybe today everything is okay, but what will happen tomorrow?

What will you do tomorrow?

Because, that's what it all comes back to, you and how you've hurt the world more times than anyone else. How you've even survived until now is somewhat of a miracle. You've had moments, of course, during dark times when Dean had been lost, or in Hell, or just presumed dead and you took your father's old revolver and placed it to your head and screwed your eyes shut and waited to pull the trigger.

You never did. You came close though.

"Sammy?"

Dean is leaning in the doorway of your bedroom and he's looking at you like he knows, and of course he knows, because he's your older brother and he's been able to read your for as long as you've been alive. And, you know he knows, that you've been wishing to forget everything, but you know that would be too easy.

A quilt of traumas, that's your life.

But some things you'll never forget, some things that were always meant to be, like the way Jess' eyes lit up when you first talked to her, the way your father would ruffle your hair whenever you did an exceptional job with research, and when you were little, Dean's warm hand in yours guiding you home. These things, you never want to forget. Everything else though-

"You're thinking too much." Dean chides you softly and he's next to you now, sitting on your bed, touching shoulders with you. "It's late."

You let you gaze drop to the floor.

"C'mon, get some sleep." Dean nudges you, his eyes pooling with concern and it's funny, he makes fun of you for your puppy dog eyes, but your older brother has some of his own.

"Sammy?"

It's the worst at night, when memories torment you, when regrets resurface as your mind processes all the words you could've uttered, all the actions you didn't take. If you could've done A, then B would've never happened and C would still be alive—

"Close your eyes, Sammy," Dean has a warm hand on your shoulder and you suddenly feel exhausted, all the energy fleeing your system. You feel yourself list to the side as your head comes to rest on your big brother's shoulder and it's funny, you haven't done this since you were ten and you saw him in the hospital.

"Dean—"

"Just close your eyes, Sammy," Dean whispers, "Just close your eyes and forget."

And just for this one moment, you let your mind go blank and you let yourself drift into the welcoming abyss of sleep

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 _ **Author's Note:**_ _I kind of just let my mind wander with this prompt, but I'm super pleased at how it turned out. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!_


End file.
